


we're all in the mood for a melody

by Jay Auris (nighthawkms)



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Declarations Of Love, Don't Try This At Home, Established Relationship, Improper Use of a Piano, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 11:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16743526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighthawkms/pseuds/Jay%20Auris
Summary: Newt's been moonlighting at a piano lounge, and Hermann comes to discuss something important.





	we're all in the mood for a melody

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freezerjerky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/gifts).



> Freezerjerky wanted that scene from Pretty Woman but with Newmann. I lovingly obliged them ;)

"You know, this doesn't look very much like a Dungeons and Dragons meetup, Newton."

Newt's fingers go still on the piano keys, and he smiles, shaking his head. "Thought I saw you in the audience. If you want to be subtle with your disguise, a giant trench coat and fedora don't cut it, dude. Just sit towards the back."

Arms come up around him, hands on his shoulders, a soft brush of lips against his scalp. "I wanted to be close to hear you better," Hermann responds. His chest is a solid warm wall for Newt to lean back against and close his eyes. His wrists and fingers ache from the hours of playing; he's only been doing this for about a month, so he's still building up his stamina. His voice feels hoarse, but the good kind, where you know you've accomplished what you wanted to, even if it hurts a little.

The top two buttons of Newt's shirt are undone to show a little skin, and Hermann slips a hand down to stroke his fingers through the short hairs showing through. Newt shivers, tipping his head back to see his lab partner/friend with benefits/maybe something more looking down at him. "Who blabbed?" Newt asks. "I only told Tendo and the Kaidonovskys where I was. They said they'd keep quiet."

"Did you think I wouldn't notice that you've been leaving base at night for hours at a time, several days a week, for the last month?" Hermann clucks his tongue, but even upside down, Newt can see he isn't mad, doesn't look disappointed. Just curious. "I can be oblivious about many things, but generally, I keep an eye on your comings and goings."

"Two questions: one, were you doing that before we started sleeping together? And two, well, I guess this isn't a question, but I sure hope you've been keeping an eye on my _coming_ ," Newt snarks, pleased to see Hermann roll his eyes but huff out a laugh.

"Would it be so surprising to find out that I like to make sure you're alright?" Hermann asks. "I really can't afford to have you, say, kidnapped by street gangs or eaten by rogue packs of Kaiju lice."

"One of those things is highly unlikely," Newt says, snickering when Hermann flicks him behind the ear. The motion makes Newt consider how silent it is now that he's not playing, and he turns to look out into the darkness of the lounge. It seems to be empty, the back-lighting from the bar and the lone spotlight on the stage the only lights left. It must be far past midnight, and the piano lounge closes at 12 am on the weekdays. Sometimes Newt will stay a bit longer, playing for himself until the manager says he needs to leave. 

It's been so long since he's been able to use an instrument this beautiful; this might be the only one left like it in Hong Kong, what with the rampant city-wide destruction. He'd seen an ad for the lounge on a flyer taped to a board in his regular ramen shop: PIANISTS WANTED, HOURLY RATE. It's not like he needs the money, although it might be nice to be able to take Hermann out to a nice meal one of these days. If they're doing that kind of thing. 

He's not sure what they're doing, really. What do you call it when you fall into bed with the guy you used to have a major, major crush on and now supposedly you hate each other, and then you keep doing it for three months, and it starts changing from a need for relief from the stress of your jobs, to something unknowable and terrifying whenever you try to put a name on it? What's going on when you try to be a little kinder, a little more thoughtful, because you really like it when he smiles at you, when he's rarely had a reason to before? What's the feeling you get when you're lying next to him at night, watching him breathe softly, and you want to wake him up, not for sexual gratification, but because you feel like you don't know half the things about him that you want to, and you're impatient to get started on learning it all?

Okay, maybe he knows what that's called, it's just-- isn't this all a little much, when they haven't even defined what this whole situation is?

"Why this?" Hermann asks, his fingers skimming up Newt's throat to cup his cheek. "Were you planning on ever telling me about this place?"

So maybe, instead of asking Hermann straight out about what's going on between them, he's been sublimating by playing jazzy piano to tipsy middle-aged Hong Kongers. That's a completely healthy coping mechanism. Music being the language of the soul, and all that.

"I was gonna," Newt says, leaning into Hermann's hand. "Just wanted to make sure my skills were up to your impossible standards. I'm a little rusty."

"Poppycock," Hermann says. "You wouldn't have been invited back after the first performance if you weren't suitably talented enough to entertain the customers for an evening. You must have impressed the owner."

"He's not the one I wanted to impress," Newt admits, swallowing hard around that particular revelation. "Where the hell is he, anyway? He's usually kicking me out at this point."

"I spoke with him," Hermann supplies. "Asked him to let us have the place to ourselves for a while."

"And he said yes?" Newt asks as Hermann slides his hands away and comes around the piano bench to sit next to Newt. "Jesus, did you convince him with your overflowing well of charm and wit? I'm still waiting to see all that."

"You'll get to see it when you're capable of appreciating it," Hermann replies. His arm is pressed against Newt's, warm through a layer of fuzzy wool. His familiar smell triggers the reptilian part of Newt's brain, which triggers other reactions. Uh oh.  _Down, boy! This isn't the place!_

"So, it's just you and me here?" Newt asks. He lifts one hand to draw the tips of his fingers across the smooth imitation ivory keys. Pressing down, the barest of high G notes tinkles out from under the lid. It was lowered earlier to signal the end of the night, and Newt played muted tunes as the customers filed out of the lounge, until it was just him and the notes hanging in the air, and he was too lost in his thoughts to notice that everyone had gone.

"Yes. I hope that's alright. I was hoping we could have a chat," Hermann says. His hand finds Newt's knee, rubbing gently over the fabric of the black, non-skinny slacks that Newt's employment requires him to wear. "It seems like I upset you last week. More so than is generally accepted between us."

"How'd you guess?" Newt asks, sighing. He was hoping this wasn't gonna come up, but they might as well get it all out in the open.

"Well, we've been having sex at least every two or three days for the past several months, and you stopped coming to my room, and you wouldn't open up when I came to yours, and you've been far less annoying during our work hours." Hermann lists these off on his fingers as he speaks, and he holds up four fingers at the end. "I am a mathematician, I can put two and two together."

"It's fine," Newt says. He rests his fingers on the keys and launches into a slow rendition of _Fur Elise_ , anxious to be doing something other than talking. "Just chalk it up to me being oversensitive. You're not the only one capable of that, yanno."

Hermann reaches out, closing his hands over the back of Newt's, forcing him to still in his motions, the interrupted piece ringing out in the still, quiet air of the lounge. Newt doesn't look at him, not until Hermann takes a hold of his chin and draws him in for a slow, searching kiss. He doesn't let Newt move away, presses forward, even, so that Newt ends up having to grip Hermann's sweater by the front and hold on.

When they break apart finally, Hermann rests his forehead against Newt's. "I'm sorry," he says. "I think you mistook my rejection of your offer as something it wasn't. Or rather, I mistook what you were trying to say when you offered."

"Then what were you trying to say?" Newt asks. That little twisting pain that he got when they had this conversation before is back. Part of him wants to get up and leave. "Because when I offered to go with you, and you said, and I quote, 'I don't see the point,' that seemed pretty definite."

"It wasn't. Not how you think," Hermann says. "You didn't even know my grandmother, and having you come to her funeral would mean subjecting you to my father, and a whole lot of interrogation by my siblings. Besides, it's an entirely family affair, the woman was a nightmare and no one but the immediate relatives will be there. You don't need to put up with all the nonsense for my sake."

"You ever think I might _want_  to do that for your sake, jackass?" Shit, now he's getting mad. This isn't how he wanted this to go, but it looks like it's going there. "You think your sibling's partners aren't gonna show up to be there for them? Am I not-" Fuck. He's let too much slip. "Just- never mind."

"No." Hermann won't let him move away, an arm around Newt's waist, still holding him close. Bastard, this isn't fair. Newt isn't looking to have all of his fucked up feelings pulled out and rejected. "Tell me what you want from me, Newton," Hermann murmurs. He eyes are too damn kind for someone about to break Newt's heart.

Newt swallows and decides that he's fucked anyway. "I don't want anything _from_  you, alright? I just want _you._  All to myself. I'm selfish and you never promised me anything and it's not fair for me to ask this when we've got the end of the world nipping at our heels but I can't fucking help it, Hermann, I never stopped feeling what I felt for you in the beginning, and I know I fucked it up and I'm _sorry_  but I still love-"

He doesn't get to finish, because Hermann drags him into another kiss, pulling them flush together. Newt moans and surges forward, bumping his knee against the underside of the piano as he twists to sit sidelong on the bench, one leg curled under the other. Hermann turns as well to keep the kiss going, nipping at the edge of Newt's mouth as his legs sit saddle over the bench.

"We're both selfish," Hermann murmurs through stolen, insistent kisses. "Seeing as I've been feeling the same and not telling you. I'm sorry too."

" _Hermann_..." Newt half-sobs. He's got half a mind to start telling Hermann off for being such an asshole, for making Newt think he was crazy to see something more between them.

"Hush, calm down. It's alright, dear man. Let me apologize," Hermann says contritely. His hand finds the hard bulge between Newt's legs that's eager to be paid attention to, and Newt forgets to be mad anymore.

Somehow, Newt ends up sitting on the top lid of the piano, his slacks and boxers pulled down around his ankles, his dress shirt pooled around his elbows, and Hermann's mouth wet and warm around his cock. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, and he prays that the smell of sex doesn't cling to lacquered spruce like it does to fabric. This is a beautiful instrument, after all, and even if he wants Hermann to play him right now, he'd like to make sure the next person on that bench can keep playing this one. He made sure to put the key lid down before hoisting himself up, just in case.

When Hermann pops off of his prick and starts making his way down, lapping at Newt's balls, nosing at his taint, Newt lets out a tight-lipped squeak and falls back against the lid. He arches as Hermann's tongue finds the bud of his entrance, teasing and testing the waters. Hermann's never done this for him before, and Newt never expected him to, so more surprises abound tonight. It feels so nice, each prod of Hermann's tongue sending a near-violent shiver of pleasure down Newt's spine. He has nothing to grip onto, his fingertips clawing uselessly at the polished lacquer. Sensitive, so sensitive, and Hermann seems to know it, his hands holding Newt's thighs up, spread as wide as he can with pants still on, lapping long strokes against Newt's entrance. When he gets annoyed with the restriction of the garments, he yanks them off of one of Newt's legs so he can spread Newt wider, thrust his tongue deeper.

" _Hermann!_ " Newt whines, tears pricking at the edge of his eyes. "P-please, god, I need-- I need..."

"Shhh," Hermann chides, soothing a hand up and down Newt's hip. "I know. Just relax, I'll get us ready."

Apparently Hermann came prepared, which makes Newt wonder if Hermann knew this was a possibility. Did he know that Newt was working here? Did he plan on finding wherever Newt had gone, no matter what sort of seedy establishment, and fucking him right on the premises? For a guy who talks about upholding his distinguished reputation, he's sure comfortable taking the risk of a rather public sexual encounter.

There's no time to dwell on it, though. Hermann's slicked fingers are pushing into Newt, stretching him open, drawing eager whimpers from his throat. There's more than enough lubricant, and Newt is so, _so_  glad he had the foresight to close the key lid, because he can feel the liquid dripping down his backside. Hermann has scooted the piano bench closer, still tonguing at the outer edge of Newt's hole, the oral muscle slippery and probing between his fingers. "Jesus!" Newt yelps, arching again when Hermann's fingers find his prostate. He hears a throaty chuckle, and lifts his head when Hermann finally pulls his hand and mouth away.

There's the sound of a zipper, and Newt watches as Hermann adjusts himself, seemingly pulling his pants down. It's really hard to see what's going on below at this angle. Hermann's hand grips Newt's right hip, his other hand out of sight, probably stroking himself. The way they're going to have to do this suddenly becomes apparent. It isn't as if Hermann can climb onto the goddamn lid with him.

"Feet on the bench for now," Hermann tells him. "I'll guide you in. Go slow, feet and then to your knees, until you're all the way on."

It's a little nerve-wracking to not be able to see where he's aiming, but Hermann holds Newt steady while he leans on his elbows on top of the piano lid and slides his lower body off, his ass bumping off the key lid, his upper body doing most of the work to hold himself up. Newt feels the press of Hermann's cock at his entrance. He gives himself a mental high five for getting the angle right, and slowly uses his elbows and feet to lower himself down. He sinks as Hermann holds his hips tightly, moaning at the lovely sensation being opened up always brings: a tinge of shocking stretch, then warmth and the feeling of fullness.

He drops a little harder than he meant to when he slides his elbows down from the top lid to the key lid, bangs them a bit, but Hermann's got him angled back against the instrument, close enough so that he can finally jut his feet off the bench and dangle them over the side, fully seating himself on Hermann's lap. "Fuck, that was a lot of work," Newt pants, leaning back against the instrument and grinning when Hermann thrusts his hips up a little. "I didn't say it wasn't worth it!"

"It had better be, you're not as light as you think," Hermann says, thrusting up again before Newt can retort. "Hush, I never said that was a bad thing either. You're not crushing me, I like feeling you in my lap, watching you like this." He's still holding Newt's hips, and he rolls his own a little, smiling when Newt moans and drops his head back against the piano lid. "Your performance this evening was lovely, but I like this performance even more. I've never dated a lounge singer, you know."

"N-no shit," Newt pants, squirming as Hermann's cock finds all those little angles to prod that he likes so much. "I've never dated a guy who likes fucking in an empty restaurant." It is a little weird, looking up into the bright spotlight, feeling so exposed, except he trusts Hermann to have ensured everyone had left before doing this. The risk kind of makes this hotter, if he's being honest. Every time he thinks about what would happen if they were caught, if someone saw them like this, Hermann taking him apart and Newt loving it, he feels himself clench a little tighter.

Hermann leans forward, pressing his face to Newt's neck and mouthing at his throat. "Sing for me, darling," he murmurs. This close, Newt's cock brushes against Hermann's stomach and the edge of his sweater, the sensation curling Newt's toes. 

"Sorry, that side of the performance is over," Newt gasps. "Fuck... Hermann, you f-fuck me so good, babe, don't stop!"

"Okay, okay," Hermann says, and his hands slide down from Newt's hips to under the back of his thighs, so that Hermann can lift him a little and let him sink back down. Newt whines and digs his heels into the side of the piano bench, praying it holds and they don't tip it and wind up sprawled on the floor. That would definitely be a mood killer.

Newt wants to touch himself, but he needs to keep his elbows on the piano lid for some leverage, so he's basically helpless to control anything as gravity does its work and keeps him buried deep on Hermann's cock. He's sweating through his cheap dress clothes, caused by the combination of exertion and the heat of the spotlight above. He can tell that he'll be sore for hours, maybe days after this, not just where Hermann is fucking him, but all over his body. But every time he feels that ache, he'll remember this evening, an experience they'll probably never get to have again.

"Hermann, your hip, is-- is it gonna last?" Newt asks, knowing that his weight on Hermann's lap can't be ignored forever. "We can move if you need to."

"No," Hermann growls against Newt's throat, so _possessive_. "Almost there. Can you come like this?"

" _Touch me_ ," Newt begs. "Please, I just need--"

He cries out when one of Hermann's hands wraps around his cock. Hermann doesn't take it slow, immediately beginning with long, firm strokes, the kind he knows will bring Newt off very quickly. Newt feels that bubbling build of his orgasm, and he would warn Hermann, but he can't form words anymore. It builds and builds and then Newt is going over, letting out a full-throated yell as his orgasm sweeps over him. Hermann makes his own breathless sound and Newt feels a gush of heat inside of him as Hermann has his own release.

After a few moments to catch their breath, they manage to extricate themselves from the now awkward positioning against the piano. Newt jerkily tugs his pants back on and pats the instrument lovingly before taking Hermann's elbow and leading him off stage.

There's a dressing room behind the stage, and Newt drags Hermann into it, pulling them both down onto the room's couch with an exhausted flop. He curls into Hermann's chest, sighing happily.

"Are we clear now?" Hermann asks, stroking Newt's hair. "No more questioning what we want from each other."

"Just to clarify, this is no longer a friends with benefits situation," Newt replies, yawning. "Right?"

"You assumed it was?"

"I don't assume there's more going on than what I'm told, Herms. You kissed me and asked if you could fuck me. I wanted you so bad, I was gonna take whatever I could get."

"Then I apologize. I've told you in the past, I don't express myself very well, but I'm also not one for dalliances. I take every relationship very seriously." Newt feels a hand cup his cheek, nudging him to look up. Hermann's expression is intense. "I've always taken my feelings for you very seriously. And I couldn't stand it anymore, wanting you and not saying anything about it."

Newt swallows and nods. He slides up to kiss Hermann properly, to make sure he knows how serious Newt's feelings are in return.

"Can I come with you to the funeral, then?" Newt asks when he pulls back. "Be there for you like I wanna? I promise I won't punch your old man in the face. At least, not during the service."

Hermann chuckles and rests his arm around Newt's shoulder. "Yes, alright. I'd like to introduce you to the rest of the family, anyway. I've told them enough about you over the years that they'll likely be expecting this."

"Hmmm, perfect. And then maybe sometime, you can come meet my dad and uncle. You're not big on the Jewish holidays, right? They're Protestants and they celebrate Christmas, and you'd definitely be welcome." Newt grins as his eyes light up. "And of course, my dad's got a gorgeous baby grand set up in the living room. Maybe if they leave the house for a bit, we try for round two?"

Hermann smacks him on the shoulder, but he's still smiling, so Newt knows he's gonna end up bent over that piano. Other than getting Hermann's heart, it'll surely be the best gift Newt gets this year.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: No pianos were harmed in the writing of this fanfic.


End file.
